Over, Sideways, and Under
by DinoDina
Summary: Fluffy one-shots of Nine and Rose getting to know each other, and Rose getting accustomed to her new like with the Doctor and TARDIS. Pre-9/Rose and 9/Rose, with a lot of friendship, based on "A Whole New World" from Disney's Aladdin.
1. I Can Show You the World

**I Can Show You the World**

**Words: 1122**

**So, like other people/obsessed fans, I've found that "A Whole New World" fom Disney's Aladdin kind of fits for Rose and the Doctor. I've decided to do a story where every chapter relates to a line from the song. The pairing, and if you didn't read the summary this will be a surprise to you, is Rose/9, or pre-Rose/9. Neither the song nor _Doctor Who_ belong to me. Enjoy!**

When Rose first entered the TARDIS, she was mesmerized. The ship sent a warmth to her. It enveloped Rose, making her feel welcome, like this place could become her home. She turned to the Doctor, who was grinning wildly.

"What do you think, Rose?" he enthused.

"She's beautiful," she breathed, looking around at the coral around her.

The TARDIS made a noise, a sort of a thank-you. Some lights lit up.

"She likes you," the Doctor explained.

"I can feel it," Rose bit her tongue. "Is she sentient?"

"Fantastic," he beamed.

Rose brushed a hand over the Console then guiltily looked at the Doctor.

"I'm not allowed to do that, am I?" she looked at him with wide eyes.

"Of course you are," he waked closer and took her hand.

Rose stiffened at the contact, and for a second, the Doctor considered letting go, but then she grew comfortable again. He guided her hand over the buttons.

"I can feel her," Rose breathed.

The Doctor tilted his head and looked at Rose with puzzlement. He didn't notice his thumb brushing over the top of her hand repeatedly.

"You're brilliant," he didn't even notice he said it.

"Why's that?" she furrowed her eyebrows.

"Nothing," he dodged, repeating "Fantastic," under his breath.

Rose shrugged and continued exploring the console. The TARDIS made a noise that sounded like a purr.

"You like that," she spoke to the ship.

_I do._

"She's speaking to you!" the Doctor cried. "_Fantastic_!"

_He does that. Pay it no matter. It'll be nice to have someone new on board. We hadn't had that in a long while. He needs you._

"What does that mean?" Rose wondered.

"Come on, Sexy, don't go conspiring against me!" the Doctor complained.

_He likes to call me 'Sexy'. You'll get used to it._

"Why're you talking to me?" Rose wondered.

As the TARDIS responded, the Doctor marveled at how his most constant Companion and his newest one took to each other. Ever since Rose had walked in, everything had seemed warmer, more in its place. He didn't know why. But he liked it.

"I'll show you around," he offered.

"Alright," she beamed.

The Doctor took her hand again, and led the enthusiastic young girl through a doorway into a hallway.

"The kitchen," he offered.

Rose followed his pointing hand to a door. The Doctor nodded to her to open it. She did. Although there was nothing exciting about a kitchen, Rose loved the thrill of exploring. Perhaps that was why the Doctor chose her.

The inside of the kitchen was bright. The TARDIS must have turn on the lights, the Doctor thought, because it was hardly ever this welcoming. Rose looked around. The walls were painted a gentle orange, and there were windows on them.

"Why are there windows here?" she asked, pointing at them, at the starts against a night sky beyond.

"She likes it homey," he smiled at the ship.

"I like it," Rose chuckled at the garden-themes curtains.

There were shelves and cabinets on the walls, made out of a dark wood. In them, when she got the go-ahead from the Doctor to look in, Rose found plates, spices, and baking ingredients. In the 50s-style fridge were fruits, vegetables, and dairy products. There was ice cream in the freezer.

_I hope you enjoy strawberry._

_Thank you_, Rose thought back, thanking the ship both for the food and telling her how to communicate with her via thoughts.

Rose hugged herself, enjoying the feel of the room. It made her feel safe, just like her mother's. Thinking about her mother and Mickey brought a lump of guilt to her throat, but Rose ignored it, remembering the Doctor's promise of time travel.

"It'll be fine," he said gently, putting a hand on her elbow.

"I know," she replied.

The Doctor inwardly cringed at the trust she had already placed in him. He hoped he wouldn't betray her.

"Let me show you the library," he offered.

"You have a library in here?" she gaped.

"What don't I have?" he joked.

"Is it big?" she wondered.

He didn't answer, instead leading her out of the kitchen and into the hall. After maneuvering Rose around them for a second time, the Doctor faced a pair of double doors.

"Not quite like Alexandria," he shrugged. "But it's mine."

_Its ours._

There were long hallways of tall shelves, all full, some even overflowing, with books. There were thin ones and thick ones, colorful ones and bland ones, books that took up all the space and ones that could fit ten more of themselves on top of where they were. Rose had never seen so many books in one place. It was fascinating.

Rose had never been much into reading, just as she had never liked clubbing or playing sports. As a young girl, she had preferred to spend time with her mother instead of on her own. Books had only recently started interesting her, when she had finally realized that her thirst for something new and exciting could be quenched, if only partially, by them.

"I like it," she smiled softly.

_Thank you. You're always welcome here, Rose Tyler._

"You do?" the Doctor repeated. "Fantastic."

"How big is it?" Rose wondered, looking at the endless corridors.

"I don't know," the Doctor shrugged. "The pool might be in here, too."

"You have a pool here?" Rose giggled.

"What's wrong with that?" the Doctor's eyebrows rose with the question. "Every spaceship ought to."

"I'm not arguing with that," Rose shook off his incredulity. "I'm just asking."

"Humans," he mumbled. "You're always so surprised."

_He loves it. It's his favorite bit about you. Or. . . one of them, anyway._

Rose nodded her confirmation, tongue still sticking out from in between her smiling teeth. She wasn't offended by the Doctor's comment, simply because he said it with such puzzled admiration.

"Haven't got all day!" the Doctor suddenly clapped his hands. "Let's go!"

He was so energetic. He looked so old and just a little sophisticated (the jacket kind of ruined the effect), but when he wanted something, or was excited about something, he seemed to regress into an overenthusiastic child at Christmastime.

"Where?" Rose asked, following him out the door.

"Your room, of course," he answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Where is it?" she replied,

"I haven't a clue!" he cried, jovially walking the halls with her.

The way he said it, 'your room, of course', make Rose think that she would be around for a while. _He'd probably change his mind_, she thought later, and was puzzled at how disappointed that made her. For now, though, she would be content with even a few days.


	2. Shining, Shimmering, Splendid

**Shining, Shimmering, Splendid**

**Words: 1003**

"And all this is just. . . here?" Rose wondered, wide-eyed. "Always?"

The Doctor nodded. He briefly moved his head from the stars to Rose. Her mouth was a little open, her eyes drawing it all in.

They were sitting inside the TARDIS's doorway, the doors open and out of the way. The ship kept them from falling and from getting cold. Their legs, both clad in pajamas and warm socks, were hanging over the side.

"Doctor?" Rose asked to get his attention, not letting her eyes leave the sky. "Our legs. . . they're in space right now. Just. . . hanging there."

"Fantastic, isn't it?" he replied.

The Doctor couldn't remember the last time he just floated, slowed down, and watched. It was no less magnificent than ancient or futuristic civilizations, both on Earth and other planets.

"You don't do this often, do you?" Rose asked gently, as if reading his thoughts.

"No," he shook his head.

Rose's hand had left her lap and rested next to her thigh. After looking at it for a minute, its natural and peaceful position seemed forced to the Doctor. The fingers were too close together, and it was completely still.

"Are you cold?" he wondered.

Of course, that would have been impossible, given the TARDIS's protection and telepathy, but Rose's answer was a small movement between a shrug of indifference and a nod of confirmation.

The Doctor stood up, but that same hand reached up and grabbed his.

"Where are you going?" she asked, almost panicky.

"You're cold," he answered.

"We don't have to leave," Rose replied. "It's not that. . . cold."

Instead of going inside, the Doctor removed his jacket. Upon sitting back down, he draped the jacket over Rose's shoulders.

"Can't have you getting cold," he explained with a grin. "You humans and your funny skin."

"Thanks," she blushed, turning back to the stars.

The Doctor and Rose were far away from anything that might harm them, but still close enough to be able to see clearly.

There were a couple planets floating about, one red and another neon green. The Doctor had explained that one of them was called Centrifuge and another Vulcan (no relation to _Star Trek_, he had assured her). They were spinning around each other, in what could be considered a teasing way. The Doctor had said that every 50 years, the two planets came so close together, one could, and would, jump from one to another. Upon Rose's exclamation that it was against the laws of physics, the Doctor had replied that it was only against _Earth's_ laws of physics. These two planets were part of one of the coldest solar systems, because the sun was not bright and very small. The native people, animals, and plants of those planets had evolved into withstanding the frigid temperatures.

The sun of those two lone planets was nearby as well, but is was perfectly harmless. It emitted a faint glow, many times milder than the Earth's sun. It was also noticeably smaller in size. This made it one of the few stars one could look at up close with a naked eye. Rose was well aware that not many people had this opportunity.

"Why did you take me with you?" Rose asked, her face illuminated by the star's red glow.

"I liked you," he replied.

_He likes you, Rose Tyler. I don't think even he knows how much. It's been a while since we've had someone here. _

_Thank you_, Rose thought back to the TARDIS. _This is amazing._

"Thank you," she said aloud.

In the distance, a nebula was shining in a beautiful array of colors. Orange melted into green, which transitioned into purple. Blue, red, and yellow showed glimpses of themselves in between black and white patches of no light or too much of it.

Some meteors swirled around, not that far away. They were a bland brown, some beige. There was nothing magnificent about them, save the fact that, with a background of a sea of space, their various shapes and sizes, floating around aimlessly, they looked amazing. The Doctor had given her a patronizing look when she had compared them to the meteors of _Star Wars_.

The stars in the background were nothing like what Rose was used to. But since they were not only in another part of space, but at another point in time, that didn't surprise Rose as much as it awed her. It was also not a particularly crowded area, so each star could be seen, each planet described.

"Tea?" the Doctor said suddenly.

"What?" Rose whipped her head around, startled by his voice.

"Do you want tea?" he offered, smiling at her immersion into the scene before them.

"Right now?" she asked. "Right here?"

"Yeah," he shrugged.

Soon, they were both sitting with a large mug of hot tea in their hands.

"It's wonderful," Rose praised after taking a sip, then frowned. "And I burned my tongue."

"Don't drink so fast, then," the Doctor replied to the quiet, probably private, comment, carefully sipping at his own drink.

"Where'd you learn to do this?" Rose wondered, a puzzled look on her face.

"What, make tea?" he looked surprised at the question.

"Yeah, but. . . all of this," Rose gestured with her free hand to the stars. "Travel in time, take care of us, save the world, cook. . . it's amazing."

"Nine hundred plus years," he shrugged, ignoring the snap of pain and remembering at the innocent, caring, words. "You get around."

"Sorry," she said after a brief silence, sensing his unease. "I never know when I'm going to muck it up, do I?"

"Not your fault, Rose," he answered the rhetorical question, putting a comforting arm around her shoulders, feeling the warm skin beneath the leather.

She laid her head on his shoulder, and they drunk the no longer scalding tea in silence, as the sky brightly swirled around them, and the TARDIS glowed with a feeling of home.


	3. Tell Me, Princess

**Tell Me, Princess**

**Words: 1082**

**There is a bit of a spoiler in here for the sixth Harry Potter book/movie.**

Rose didn't know when, but somewhere along the line, she and the Doctor had become best friends. It wasn't something she thought would happen, not something she dared hope would happed, but it did. Both the Doctor and the TARDIS were her family, as close to her as the mother that took care of her single-handedly for nineteen years, her whole life, and as close as Mickey, who had spent almost _his_ whole life chasing after her.

The TARDIS was always there for her, like a mother. A mother that barely nagged, that understood. No, more like an aunt, the kind that pampers and listens. Her presence was always there, right by Rose's side, just as she was by the Doctor's. Rose's room was always clean, new things put right where she would have put them. And of course, the fact that the ship was telepathic also helped.

And the Doctor. . . Rose didn't even know where to start there. The Timelord was damaged. He was skeptical, and sarcastic, and rude, and so, so, so hopeful. No matter what had happened in his past—something that he hadn't elaborated on but Rose knew had happened—he was always so hopeful, not only in situations, but for the future. No matter how much he put on a show, a sort of shell between him and the world, Rose knew he was a happy child inside.

That happy child had took her in, had offered her a home with him, with the only actual friend he had left. The Doctor had become her caretaker, her confidante. He showed her everything, took her everywhere. He cared for her, genuinely cared, and that was something she wasn't used to. As much as it scared her, she didn't mind.

* * *

><p>The Doctor showed her new things.<p>

"Get dressed, Rose!" the Doctor shouted, bounding into her room.

"Where are we going?" she asked from the bed where she was reading the latest Harry Potter book.

"I don't know," he grinned.

"What do you mean?" she wondered with a frown, walking over to him.

"The TARDIS is choosing for us," he explained, shooing her away to her closet.

"How's that?" she asked, taking a shirt off a hanger.

"Magic," the Doctor shrugged.

"Doctor," she laughed, changing out of her pajamas.

"I don't know," he sighed in defeat, leaning on the door.

"I thought you knew everything," she teased as they walked down the TARDIS's halls to the doors.

"Most things," he reached out an inviting hand. "But now what's on the other side of those doors."

"May I?" she asked excitedly, already reaching her hands toward the exit.

"Of course," he smiled at her enthusiasm.

"That's. . . odd," she said after sticking her head out.

"What?" he asked from where he stood near the Console.

"It's all. . . pink," she explained, frowning.

"Valentine!" the Doctor groaned.

"What's that?" Rose inquired.

"It's a resort. In the 37th century—you humans, you're out there right now, in the universe—you've made this place a couple paradise," he near growled in annoyance, not at Rose, but at the ship.

"Why're we here?" Rose asked.

"It's her idea of a joke," the Doctor sighed.

_Not really._

_What does that mean? _Rose asked the ship, knowing that the words were directed at her.

_Nothing, dear._

* * *

><p>Things she wouldn't have even dreamed of seeing.<p>

The universe. The stars. The dust that flies from place to place, never settling, always everywhere.

Victorian England. Tudor England. The American Revolutionary War. The building of the Great Sphinx.

Things that made her laugh.

"Are there things that are popular everywhere?" Rose asked once.

"What do you mean by everywhere?" the Doctor answered, puzzled.

"I mean like. . . all planets, or. . . all civilizations," she elaborated. "Something that's like a universal thing."

"Love?" he offered. "Family?"

"Really?" she asked with wide eyes, because no matter what, she was sure that it wasn't the case.

"Well, no," he shook his head. "Not everywhere. Not the Sontarans. The Daleks. The Cybermen."

"Who are they?" Rose didn't recognize the species, other than the Daleks, and was sure she didn't want to.

"You don't want to know," he confirmed her suspicions.

"Oh," she nodded.

"But other than that," he thought for a moment. "Other than those simple things, the ones that everyone wants. . . there's clowns."

"'Clowns'?" Rose repeated, sure she had heard wrong.

"What's wrong with clowns?" the Doctor defended.

"Nothing," Rose dropped the subject, determined to discuss it with the TARDIS later.

* * *

><p>Things that made her cry.<p>

"I don't understand," she sobbed quietly into the Doctor's shoulder.

"You shouldn't have to," he rubbed her back patiently.

"Why?" she whimpered again.

"Because life's not fair," he guessed. "Because for there to be good, there must be evil. Because writers are sadists? I don't know."

"Why?" she asked again.

"To make you cry," he offered.

"Why did he have to die?" Rose whispered.

"He didn't have to," the Doctor agreed. "He could have kept on living, but where would Harry be then?"

"I know," Rose sighed. "It's just not fair."

"I know."

"Why did Dumbledore have to die?" Rose repeated again.

Things that made her want to curse humanity to the darkest and most condemned places in the universe.

"It was torture!" Rose pounded her fists against the Doctor's chest. "They were torturing them!"

"I know," he made no move to stop her.

"Why didn't we help?" Rose continued screaming. "We could have helped!"

"I'm sorry," he said, defeated.

And he held Rose when she couldn't do it herself anymore.

* * *

><p>Things that made her want to call whatever power was in charge of all life and put in a good word for some beings.<p>

"Why can't everyone be like that?" Rose asked.

The Doctor followed her gaze to a young red-skinned woman helping the few survivors of the shipwreck they had tried to stop.

"There can't always be good," he sighed.

"Where do they come from?" Rose wondered.

"Her?" the Doctor devoted .45 seconds to think about the answer. "Madidr."

"No," she corrected. "People that care."

"Oh," he put an arm around her shoulders and started heading them back to the TARDIS. "We come from everywhere."

* * *

><p>Life was never boring. A little sad—a <em>lot<em> sad—at times, sure. . . but life was precious. Rose had learned that with the Doctor. She also learned that she had friends. Two amazing, magnificent friends that would do anything for her. That she would do anything for.


	4. Let Your Heart Decide?

**Now When Did You Last Let Your Heart Decide?**

**Words: 1215**

Going with the Doctor had been an impulsive decision, one based on her wishes, not on what would have been smart. It was one she had made with her heart, and one she did not regret.

Rose and the Doctor were sitting in the kitchen, eating breakfast, when they decided to do something together. Of course, they already did things together, but today, they had decided to be domestic, or, in their case, TARIDS-estic.

"What do you want to do?" Rose asked.

"I don't know," the Doctor shook his head. "What do _you_ want to do?"

"We're _not_ going to do that," Rose declined the game. "We need something real, like an actual activity to do."

"What are you proposing?" the Doctor inquired, munching on a piece of toast, burned, just the way he liked it.

"I don't know," Rose answered.

_How about you two stop arguing?_

Both the Doctor and Rose heard the TARDIS's chuckle.

"Well, what you _you_ propose we do?" the Doctor asked the ship.

_Watch a movie. Clean your rooms. Swim, read, do _something_! Just, for the love of Time, please stop that. . . thing!_

"What thing?" Rose asked.

_That adorable arguing thing you're doing._

The TARDIS didn't speak again.

Rose and the Doctor finished their breakfast in peace, during which no one said a word about their plans, if only not to irritate the TARDIS. When they were done, however, they were thrust right back into the void of indecision.

"Should we watch a movie?" the Doctor asked, remembering the TARDIS's first suggestion.

"What movie?" Rose wondered.

"I don't know," the Doctor shrugged. "I don't even know what we have in here."

"Why don't we check?" Rose asked, starting off down a hall. "_Where_ do we check?"

"The video room," the Doctor stated like it was obvious.

"You have a video room here?" Rose asked, then shook her head. "Why do I even ask?"

"I don't know," the Doctor replied.

"That was rhetorical," Rose explained. "Where do we go?"

"Take a right," the Doctor pointed. "Then a left, walk three doors down, make a u-turn, right, left, middle door, left, right again, five doors in."

"Aren't you coming?" she asked, sure she had remembered the directions, but puzzled, since they had been planning on doing it together.

"Oh, right," he remembered. "Of course."

They set down the hallways together, talking about everything and nothing.

The video room, just like Rose had expected it to be and the Doctor knew it was, was huge and filled, stacked to the brim, with boxes and boxes of DVDs. There were old ones, new ones, and ones long after Rose's time.

"What are we going to watch?" Rose asked the Doctor after getting an eyeful of his collection.

"I don't know," he replied.

"Well, what do you want to watch?" she asked.

"What do _you_ want to watch?" he countered, repeating what he had said in the kitchen.

"Please, not again," Rose replied, cringing.

"Fine," he shrugged. "You pick."

"I don't know what over half of these are!" Rose cried. "I don't even know what to pick."

"Just reach onto a random shelf," he decided. "Whatever comes out, comes out."

Soon, they were sitting in the adjoining room, curled up with blankets, water, and popcorn. The Doctor put the movie in, neither of them knowing which one they picked, both wanting it to be a completer surprise.

When the movie itself came on, Rose read the title aloud.

"'Molly's Folly'," she smirked. "Someone felt creative."

"It's not their fault," the Doctor argued. "Although it is primitive."

The title did not do the movie justice, which, despite being filled with horrible dialogue and a watery plot, had a nice message.

It had started out telling the daily life of an ordinary woman named Molly. She worked in a flower shop. The girl had not been smart in school and was now paying the price of not getting into college. She lived with her overbearing parents, who, despite having her best interests as heart, did not understand her and her need to live life instead of doing the serious things of it.

When, one day, she met a boring librarian in her shop who was conflicted about what flowers to buy for his significant other, Molly had told him her life story and he had encouraged her to follow her dreams, but not let go of reality.

It was a movie with no real plot, no continuity, nothing that would have made it worth their while if they had bothered to read the synopsis.

"That was. . . interesting," Rose reflected as the credits rolled.

"When was the movie made?" the Doctor asked from his position behind Rose. "Can you check the box?"

"Just a second," Rose told him, reading the information on the box. "Got it. . . 2417."

"Huh," the Doctor thought aloud. "They made different movies then."

"But wasn't it set in the mid-20th century?" Rose asked, thinking back to the movie.

"That explains it," the Doctor nodded, remembering the fact. "They lost sight of the past."

"Were they trying to get it back?" Rose wondered.

"I think so," the Doctor agreed. "They obviously didn't do a good job of it."

"But isn't it the thought that counts?" Rose asked with a smile.

"Yeah," the Doctor nodded. "It always is."

They sat like that for a while, curled up together on the worn couch, sinking into the cushions. The bowl of popcorn was on the floor, long empty. They were under a large blanket, a quilt, colorful and frayed at the edges.

"You know," Rose sighed. "I think I rather liked the movie."

"Why's that?" the Doctor asked, tilting his head.

"It was kind of stupid," Rose began, nodding to the Doctor to quiet down when he started to protest that the reason she just gave was not valid. "But in a way that kind of restores faith in humanity."

"Care to explain?" he asked, lifting a thin eyebrow.

"There's no plot, no dialogue," Rose explained. "Nothing that could attach you to the characters or the storyline, weak as it may be. But it's. . . nice. Carefree, in a way."

"So it makes you feel good without putting any effort into it?" the Doctor clarified.

"Yeah," Rose nodded. "Molly's dreams, her parents' dreams, the librarian's dreams. . . they're all connected. They're all about how to live life. Except Molly wants to enjoy it to the fullest, consequences be damned. Her parents were overly cautious. And the librarian was a mix of all of it, he just didn't know what kind of flowers to buy for his boyfriend."

"That still doesn't make sense, though," the Doctor frowned.

"I don't think it's supposed to," Rose replied. "Like I said—like _you_ said—it's just supposed to make you feel good."

"Feel good about what?" the Doctor asked.

"Life," Rose brightened.

"And did it?" the Doctor gave up his argument in favor of looking at his Companion's excitement.

"Yeah," Rose smiled brightly. "I forgot how good it could feel, just. . . feeling good."

"I did, too," he nodded.

"Should we watch something else?" Rose inquired.

"What have you got?"

"_Star Wars_," she lifted up the box of the first movie of the original trilogy.


	5. I Can Open Your Eyes

**I Can Open Your Eyes**

**Words: 1722**

**Coming up with an actual plot-like thing is hard. Also, allusions to Torchwood, but no spoilers.**

"I'm scared," Rose whispered.

"Shh, it's okay," the Doctor answered, and put a hand over her mouth to keep her quiet.

"What are they going to do?" she asked, quieter this time, her breath warming the Doctor's hand.

"I don't know," he sighed, his face showing nothing but worry.

Outside of the closet they were hiding in, heavy footsteps echoed in the corridor. The dim light coming through the thin cracks in the door illuminated their faces, the fear on Rose's and the determination on the Doctor's.

Rose moved closer to the Doctor, seeking comfort and strength from his cool body.

It was quiet. The footsteps stopped. Rose shivered. She didn't know why, but she grew even more scared. It was an unusual feeling. Even with all the danger of their adventures, Rose had never been this terrified.

"It'll be alright," the Doctor whispered in her ear.

And the door swung open.

Rose stiffened against the Doctor's shoulder. And no one could have blamed her. These beings, whoever they were, were after the Doctor.

"We found him," one of them said into what looked like a microphone.

"Bring him here," a small, crackling voice floated over to them, a surprising menacing answer.

"He has someone with him," the one who had found them said with confusion. "What do I do with it?"

"Take care of it."

Rose felt, rather than saw—it was far too dark for that—the Doctor being torn away from her. Or it might have been her being separated from him. She thought she had cried out, but a rough hand was clamped over her mouth. Another had covered her eyes, ridding her of the companionship of anything she might have seen otherwise, a limited a possibility as it might have been.

She was being dragged. Not deliberately, but whoever was escorting her was walking too patiently for her to keep up. As strange as the thought was, it was easier to submit and be pulled along, than to protest and quite possibly pay the price for that.

The first time Rose's knees made contact with the ground, it was damp. With the second, she felt her knees come away covered in something like sand. At the third, her jeans were ripped, and the skin one her left knee was wet with something other than water, or at least, this planet's equivalent of it.

When Rose felt the being holding her stop, she did her best to stop as well, but the inertia of their pace's quickness sent her forward. Thankfully, the portion of Rose's brain that wasn't preoccupied with figuring out what to do now knew enough to stick her hands out in front of her to break the fall. It was a tremendous statement to her luck that she not only broke the fall, but managed not to break her hands.

She heard the door shut, cursing whoever created this planet for making everything so dark. It was driving her insane—not being able to see. Because being able to see would mean knowing where she was. And knowing where she was would mean being able to leave. And that would mean she could find the Doctor.

From what they could decipher was that they had ended up, in a sort of Time Vortex storm, on a planet that was ruled by vicious, possibly invading aliens. They had gathered that their own planet had been destroyed in the Time War, and for that, they hated the Doctor. So, naturally, it would meant that the Doctor and Rose were being chased. No, not chased. "Hunted" was a better term.

Their loudness in the cabinet they were hiding in had given them away. _The Doctor's reassurances_ had given them away.

Rose felt around. She couldn't find anything on the floor next to her, other than sand, wetness, and wet sand. Just like what she had encountered on the way to wherever she was. The thought it might have been a cell. A depressing one at that. Not that she knew what cells were usually like.

"It's okay," someone whispered behind her. "No, don't!"

Sheepishly, Rose realized that she had backed up in fear. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," the voice reassured her, still quietly. "Do you mind whispering?"

"Why?" Rose complied.

"They'll hear," Rose's arm was gently taken, and she was lead further inside.

"Where are we?" she asked as she was sat down onto a bench.

"Meidan," there was a pause in which Rose heard a bitter chuckle. "The _dungeons_ of Meidan."

"What's Meidan?" Rose asked. "I mean. . . what's the deal with Meidan?"

"We used to be peaceful," the longer Rose listened, the more she was sure she was talking to a fellow female. "Then they came."

"Who are 'they'?" Rose wondered.

"We aren't sure," came the answer. "But they sent us messages, before they came. On a radio wave. So we called them the 456. They wanted our children. And when we refused, they sent their allies t conquer us."

"That's horrible," Rose whispered. "Can they be defeated?"

"I don't know," there was a sigh. "I hope so. No one should suffer like this."

"Why is it so dark?" Rose felt around the bench, only to collide hands with her companion, who seemed to be doing the same thing.

"It isn't," Rose heard something not unlike the biting of a lip. "They blind us."

Rose's breath hitched in her throat. "How?"

"It's something in their gloves," Rose's hand was gripped tighter. "When in comes into contact with our eyes, it does something. . . I don't know what."

Rose processed that for a moment. As far as she knew—and she did know, one had to with the Doctor—no other beings had the same physical composition as humans. For that to work, something must have been very strange.

"What's the matter?" the other woman sensed her discomfort.

"Nothing," Rose shook her hand, but the hand gripping hers tightened its hold. "Just. . . is this Earth?"

The woman stiffened. It had been a while since she had heard the name. It was so foreign, so close to home. "How did you know?"

"It is?" Rose grimaced at the possibilities. "Why'd you call it. . . what was it. . . 'Maiden'?"

"It's what they renamed it," there was grumbling, and Rose could tell it was a private moaning.

"What year is it?" she asked instead of commenting.

"1986," the woman sighed.

"What's your name?" Rose asked.

"I haven't been asked that in a while," even without her eyes, Rose knew she was smiling. "It's Jackie."

Rose grew quiet. This woman, caring, so warm and kind, with a voice so like her mother's. . . she even had the same name. Rose hadn't been prepared for that. But this woman, she decided, wasn't her mother. No matter how alike they may have been. And this place, whatever it was, was not her Earth.

And then the door swung open. The woman—Jackie—stiffened in something that could have been fear, but was probably defiance. Rose, though, knew who it was. There was no way that anyone other than the Doctor could take up that much space in a room, at the same time being so quiet.

"Doctor!" Rose cried, running toward him, and it was only his mysterious power of knowing everything that was wrong with her that the Doctor was able to catch her when she tripped and fell.

"The Timelord?" Jackie breathed from behind them.

"You know?" the Doctor and Rose chorused.

"He told me about you," she explained, suddenly not so scared, not so timid.

"Who?" Rose asked as the Doctor stayed silent.

"I can't remember his name," she sounded puzzled. "I can't really remember even meeting him. But he was nice. Welsh, too, now that I think of it. He said it was his fault."

"We have to go," the Doctor cut in. "I'm sorry."

"But what about us?" Jackie asked, and her voice was tight.

"You have to get yourselves out of this rut on your own," the apology, while not obvious, was heard in the way his voice quaked, and how he had to drag himself out of the room, half-carrying Rose, and repeating, "I'm sorry."

Rose grew quiet. It was the first time, other than the one with the Dalek, that she had seen the Doctor refuse to help. It confused her, tore at her heart, reminding her how little she knew the Timelord she had trusted with her life.

"Are you ready to run?" he asked her quietly, sensing her unease. "I promise I'll explain on the TARDIS."

She nodded, blindly trusting him once again. And wasn't that a great pun?

_What happened? _

"Not now," the Doctor growled at his ship. "Where are the nanogenes?"

_Locked up in your room. As always. Why do you need them? What happened ?_

"What are nanogenes?" Rose asked, too tired to think the question.

"They'll fix you," the Doctor promised. "And then I'll explain."

_I'll hold you to that_.

The TARDIS moved the Doctor's room closer, worrying. It was one thing to hide from her, but it was a completely different thing to hide from her when Rose was the one hurt.

"What are those?" Rose asked, as the Doctor gathered tiny gold flecks from her face.

"They're nanogenes, tiny robots that can heal you," he said. "I'm sorry."

"You said that already," she gently reminded the Doctor, her anger at his actions dissipating almost completely at the pain in his voice.

"We had to leave, Rose," he hugged her, feeling the warmth of her body. "We didn't belong there."

"Where was it?" she asked. "Jackie. . . she said it was Earth. 1986. But that doesn't make sense. The world didn't end in 1986."

"It wasn't _your_ Earth," the Doctor explained. "It was a different universe."

_The storm brought us into a different universe? Why couldn't I sense it?_

"Their technology was too advanced," the Doctor apologized. "It could fool anyone."

"I'm sorry," Rose blushed at how angry she had been, feeling the Doctor's sadness as well as her own.

"Not your fault, Rose," he replied.

Hand in hand, they walked out of the Doctor's room, away from the quiet and memories, toward the freedom and light of the Console Room, toward brighter and better things.


End file.
